Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

Author: ladydarnell

My arms numb, my chest
collapsing, my head
sinking. I am alone-
why wouldn’t I be? Here
I am, left aside-
rot and wonder all
I’ve left in this.
Wishful thinking never gets ya
anywhere, and I’m done
with all the plausible reasonings
I had stored in my artillery crate.
No defense is good enough, for
I’ve clearly met my match.

Bodies like barbie dolls, void
of all nature, all feeling, all
joy and splendor.
Ken dolls, all of ‘em-
stupid bulge spots as if
there’s something there to hope for.
They’re all the same plastic,
inorganic lumps waiting
to try and rub against
whatever kind of senseless parts
I don’t possess. Me,
I’m one of them-
the lifeless, the shapeless, the
unpleasurable mockery of all
which is holy. I am unfit to fulfill my duties.
And, well, this whole world’s a joke.

Goddamnit, sirens,
I’m already at my teeth
in overwhelmed hysteria,
my heart nearly poundin’
out. It is One Thirty Six in the Morn,
and I’m tryin’ my damndest
to get my shit together and
not have a mental break-
down and maybe even sleep,
and all you do is continue to Zoom!
past my house with your stupid
wailing banshee shit and keep me
from having a moment’s peace,
for chrissake. Jesus
I need a dose of yoga.

I wouldn’t be here, fumbling my way through the dark, over-crowded rooms and the sickly, slimy basements searching for the door with calloused fingers; I wouldn’t be in this cave, hiding and hoping for others to miss what I’d done; I wouldn’t drag, head-to-floor slowly, scathingly, begrudgingly through this supposed gateway to Paradise; I wouldn’t be trapped among the dead bodies, barely up-right; I wouldn’t be filling my cup at every empty oasis which offers even the slightest mirage of saturation. If not for you I wouldn’t be stuck staring into a blank wall that surely must bear your image; I wouldn’t look around every corner with my heart all a-flutter thinking to see you waiting there; I wouldn’t rejoice at the melting snow, convinced it promises your return; I wouldn’t imagine your heavy hand upon my shoulder when I need you most; I wouldn’t hold your relics close while all others are gone nor dance with your shadow. I’d steer clear of the sadists and their Opiate Swells and their cold fingers and their dirty hair; I wouldn’t nearer myself to those undeservings who flee from my good graces, would not identify with their self-loathing, their regression, their silence. And if not for you I wouldn’t have known otherwise.

Left upon my pedestal, alone, towering
over my self, my glory
never-lasting.
Others come to poke and prod at my
spectacle with their sticks,
at the ready to run
at my slightest twitch.
Nevermind-
it is Hell enough without their
flames, licking
at my open wounds drawn
by needles and reeds and thorns.
Sorry am I to them all
for their insatiable curiosity, driving
them, inevitably, far away while I am
left still, stuck, on my teetering, fiery
tower, trapped among the
ruins.

My back has developed a
knob in the spine where I
carry my things with
others in tow.
Soon enough, perhaps, I shall
be gentler on my mass of lop-
sided, shaking bones.
My heart is fine by
definition though a bit
panged from constant
overdrive. So,
perhaps I should cool it on
the coffee.

Moments spent
in front of a
mirror not mine in a
bathroom within a
bedroom not mine,
convulsing,
twisting endlessly
into who I am, or,
who I contain inside,
writhing ‘neath my
shell soft and sweet and
I can not let her out for
fear of shock, but
do you know her Power?
Do you know she’s there?
If and by chance you were
to see her
radiance unfold,
only then would you know-
understand- the grave errors of
your will to deny
such a Beast in lady’s
clothing, waiting to
Take you at the first
chance.